Reborn to Heroism
by Valandar
Summary: Lois does not survive infancy... so how can she be Clark's soul mate? Early chapters not much with the L&C, but it gets more so later. T for later action
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I own none of it. Look to DC Comics, Warner Brothers, ABC, and such. I only came up with the story.

PROLOGUE

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Doctor Anthony MacGregor sighed as he motioned to his fellows around him. "Call it. 6:45 AM, Thursday, August seventeenth, Nineteen sixty-seven."

Flipping a switch to turn of the still shrilly wailing machines, he shook his head. It never got easier, but he did learn to hide it better. After all, the death of an infant is never an easy thing to bear, no matter how premature.

Alyssa, his nurse, stepped up to him. "Do you want to tell the parents, or should I?"

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and regarded her. "No... no, I'll do it. Then I'm going home, opening up a nice bottle of brandy, and getting rip roaring drunk."

Turning, he stormed off to the ICU waiting room, to inform Doctors Sam and Ellen Lane that their daughter, little Lois, had passed on from complications due to her five week premature birth several months before.

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Many other events that to native eyes would seem more momentous occurred within weeks of that day. One was the arrival of a joyous bundle to Doctor Thomas and Martha Wayne, their firstborn, Bruce. Another was the day an eccentric scientist pulled the last survivor of Mars to Earth, where said Martian decided to try to blend in for a while. And yet another was the first time when Lex Luthor realized just how much power money had when he convinced one first grade bully to protect him from another for a mere pittance - five dollars a day, not even pocket change.

But one that was possibly more important happened in a place unseen by the eyes of the outside world, on an island lost to even myth. The island of Themiscrya, home of the Amazon Nation.

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Queen Hippolyta gazed at her secret labor, knowing that her subjects would not understand the longing that had nearly overwhelmed her some years before. After Herakles and Theseus had led the Athenians into conquering them, a handful had escaped, only to be shipwrecked on an island lost to all charts. Here, their patrons Artemis and Athena appeared to them, telling them that they had been chosen to live on this island forever. Others would join them from time to time, those women either lost at sea, or slain at sea by men, reborn into the physically perfect bodies of Amazons. No man had ever set foot on Themiscrya, and none ever shall by the goddesses' decree. However, as one not reborn but in her true, original body, Hippolyta longed for what she never had before - a daughter.

On a plinth before her sat her masterwork - a clay sculpture of a baby girl, perfect in every detail. Months upon months of work with a fine reed had erased even the fingerprints pressed into the soft clay, and replaced them with details as accurate as even tiny pores. This was no stylized representation, or crude mannequin, no more perfect manifestation could be made if a real child had been used to make its mold. Yet it also bore distinct features recognizable to the trained eye - the nose, eyes, cheeks, and jaw of she who crafted it.

As she carefully smoothed out the last tiny fingernail, she sighed. She knew she was too old to play with dolls, which is what this would only ever be, but she could not resist the urge to create it. Now, only one step remained - to place the clay into the fire, to be sealed as ceramic. Looking up from the crude wooden seat she rested in, a far cry from her throne several floors above, a heartfelt plea escaped her lips. "Please, Athena. I beg you, Artemis. Let this be as my daughter, that my agony might be abated!" she exclaimed in a long-lost dialect of Greek.

After a moment, during which she determined her wish was unheard, her head dropped to her chest, and a single tear fell, to splash against the eye of her creation. She then stood ramrod straight, with the pride of millenia radiating from her. She lifted the metal pan that separated the plinth and the sculpture, and carried it to the crude kiln she had built when she started this over a year before. It burned brightly, yet she did not wince; the heat was enormous, yet she did not turn away. Instead, she thrust the pan into the fire, that it might do what it must.

"Hippolyta, remove the pan from the kiln!"

The voice startled her, but by the wild tone she knew instantly who it must have been. Moving with a grace and speed unheard of, she clutched the handle of the pan and drew it forth. It had only been a moment, surely the clay had not yet hardened?

To her amazement, there was no clay upon the pan. Instead, two blue eyes stared up at her, blinking, before a yawn broke open the tiny, perfectly formed mouth. Slightly chubby arms and legs stretched, and though the pan was searingly hot, the now fully living baby showed no discomfort at the heat.

"Thank you, Artemis!" whispered the queen of all Amazons, as she carefully set the pan back upon the plinth, and lifted the child gently into my arms. "The Romans called you Diana... and so, my own daughter shall be named so.

"And she is a wonder, my little Diana."

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Looking down from Olympus, two impossibly perfect women watched, and pondered. One with dark brown hair, tied back by a vine from the wilds, looked to the other, with perfectly arrayed ebony hair. "She is our Champion... but was this reward for her service proper?" she asked.

The black haired one, slightly taller than her companion, smiled. "It was more than proper. We even gained permission from that which stands above even us to use the soul of the first girl-child to leave the mortal sphere once she placed the simulacrum in the fire as the soul of... Diana."

Unsure, the first one asked. "And what shall become of her? She has immortal flesh, and an immortal soul. Will she remain an infant forever?"

"No, Artemis, she shall not. All souls are immortal, and some are reborn through other agencies. Diana shall grow strong and tall, and as beautiful as either of us." She waved her hand, and the image of Themiscrya faded. "She shall be as swift as you, and as skilled as I. The rest of the Twelve shall each give her gifts, and with these she shall be a Champion, not just for us, but for all that remain of Olympus. And she shall not be limited to Themiscrya, but shall take her courage, honor, and other virtues to stand in the World of Men."

"Phah," spat Artemis. "Men are crude, and they enslave their women."

"Perhaps that was once true, but behold, here. On this once empty land stands a great nation, now. It is embroiled in unrest, but that unrest is the birthing pains of a more enlightened time. Already their women are given an equal voice in their government, a vote in their national senate. They do not allow kings to rule, but choose one of their own number, balanced by other forces, to guide and lead for a time. Perhaps when Diana has reached her maturity, they will even have a woman chosen as one of those leaders - for nothing in their laws forbid it, and they rapidly understand the meaning of their Founders' own words."

"Perhaps, Athena... perhaps."

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Prologue

CHAPTER ONE

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"I don't care what that doctor said, Martha," grumped Jonathan Kent. "We'll have a baby one way or another, you'll see." He carefully steered the old pickup truck down the winding road near Schuster's Field, never taking his attention off the road, but glancing at his wife from time to time.

"But... but I'm barren, Jonathan. I can't bear children." She was on the verge of yet another crying jag, after one of the great dreams of her life was utterly crushed.

"Oh, phooey. Martha... Love... if worse comes to worse, we can always adopt. Remember, my cousin Mark was adopted, 'cause Uncle Nathan was injured in Guadalcanal." Jonathan sighed. "We'll have ourselves a bundle of joy if I have to put up the farm to afford it."

"But... Jonathon!" she cried out.

"No, I mean it, Martha, I'd do it in a heartbeat if..."

"No, Jonathan, look out!" she cried again, pointing out her window. A brilliantly glowing object could be seen in the early twilight, racing almost directly towards them at a fantastic pace.

"Hold on!" shouted the farmer, as he tried to guess if he'd be better off hitting the brake or the accelerator. After only a moment's hesitation, he dropped the gas pedal to the floor, and the old truck growled in discomfort as it surged ahead.

The object roared almost directly past them, the wind of its wake buffeting the old vehicle, and shaking up both Jonathan and Martha Kent. About the only thought that raced through his mind as he held tightly onto the steering wheel with one hand, and his wife's arm with the other, was that he was ever so glad he had not hit the brakes.

The resounding shock wave when the object struck the ground in Schuster's Field could not rightly be called a sound, as it was so powerful to knock branches off of trees nearly a mile away, and could be heard nearly ten miles away at the Smallville Courthouse. For the Kents, it was most definitely not a sound, but something that rattled them to the bones, and nearly deafened them. A tiny trickle of blood traced down from Jonathan's left ear as he wrestled with the truck, slamming on the brakes and trying to steer with the shock wave to keep it from flipping.

After several long moments of relative silence, Jonathan looked at his wife. She was white as a sheet, and the close encounter had obviously shaken her as much as it had him. "Wh-what was that?" she asked. "A meteor? Some kind of satellite crashing down?"

Shrugging, the farmer made a decision. "I think it's a meteor. And I'm gonna go have a look. You stay here, okay?"

"Not on your life, Jonathan Kent! It might still be dangerous, and you know I'm a better shot than you!"

"Shot? Martha, what good is a .410 gonna do against a red-hot hunk of space rock?" he asked in astonishment.

"I... I don't know. But for all we know, it might not be a meteor - it might be a Soviet satellite! And who knows what they had on it!" She was already unlimbering the relatively small shotgun from the gun rack of the truck, and put her hand on the door handle. "Shall we?"

Smoke still rose from the fifty-yard trench as they approached it. Dozens of shards of rock were scattered down its length, culminating at a bulbous, metallic shape. A hiss broke the silence, and Martha dropped to one knee, sighting over the barrel at whatever had made the sound. Slowly, the front end of the object rose, and movement could be seen through the mist.

"Oh, my God," muttered Jonathon. "It's..."

"A baby!" cried Martha. Almost knocking her husband down as she shoved the shotgun into his chest, she darted for the end of the trench. "Jonathon, come here, come here!"

Moving towards the edge of the ploughed up ground, they found that it was still to hot to approach any closer - yet the baby was still there, crawling around. Seeing the two of them, he let out a giggle, and managed to stand on a pair of wobbly feet. Slowly, he approached them.

"That's it, honey! Come here!" said Martha, holding out her arms as close as she dared to the still cooling trench. And to her amazement, the baby did.

"Well, it's a boy, I can tell that much," quipped Jonathon, grinning. "But what are we going to do with him?"

The look his wife gave him told him that not only was the answer obvious, but he was also probably going to regret even asking the question.

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Rumors followed the boy, who they named Clark, for most of his early life in Smallville. However, none of them would even come close to the truth. Some said that Martha had a cousin or sister who found herself 'in trouble', and ended up giving the child to the Kents. Some, seeing the slightly olive cast to his skin and faint slant to his eyes thought he was bought from some overseas black market baby ring. But most assumed that he was adopted in Topeka, and that all those other annoying busybodies should just keep their noses out of the Kents' business.

He grew strong and tall - no taller than anyone suspected, but far stronger. And far faster, as well. Other abilities manifested over time, culminating in the one that even he had a hard time believing he had - the power of flight. But with each new power he developed, he felt more and more apart from everyone else he knew, even his parents. Clark had known of his origins since he was thirteen, and often wondered just why he was on Earth. He didn't believe that he was some sort of Soviet or American experiment, because then almost any child adopted around that time would fall under intense scrutiny. No, he fully believed he was an alien, though from where or how he had no idea.

The end of the Eighties found him coming to a decision the Kents knew was coming for a very long time. He was leaving Smallville, though to where he didn't know, yet. He was going to find himself, and hopefully figure out a way to use his amazing abilities for the good of all.

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"Once was Twelve," moaned the ephemeral shape, drifting through the halls of fabled Olympus. "Twelve still, but not the same... lost, forgotten, mocked... no more..."

When it had first happened, Artemis found herself shocked, and almost in tears. The mighty Zeus, slayer of Ouranos and king of the gods, had given up. All that remained of him was this ghastly specter, a mockery of the powerful supernatural being he once was. But now, nearly half the gods had likewise given up, and so all she felt when she beheld him was dread. Dread that more of her fellows would join him - and worst of all, dread that she might, as well, one day.

Shaking off her fear, she continued down the white marble halls, to her brother's chambers. Apollo remained, and was in fact the current king of the gods. Of the original Dodekatheon, only six remained: Apollo, Athena, Hermes, Hephaestos, Hestia, and herself. Twelve other gods had been brought up to fill the gaps, but things were different now... so very different.

"Are you coming in, sister, or are you simply going to stand there in thought?" came the voice of the sun god from within.

Shaking herself, she stepped in, and reclined on a couch near the door. "I apologize, brother. I encountered... Father."

He knew at once what bothered her, and dropped to his own couch. "I see. I... I asked you here because another has left us. And I need you to gather Athena and Eos. The Dodekatheon must meet, to choose another to fill its ranks."

"But what of Persephone? Normally you have me send for her. Did she...is she..."

"No, not her. She is already at hand. Owing to her position, she felt the passing of our lost member. No, it was Nike who left us. And with the loss of Victory, my hope begins to fade even swifter." He let his head fall back, and sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if it would not be better simply to give up, and become as they are."

Flushed with anger, Artemis bolted to her feet. "How DARE you suggest that! Apollo, if we give up, if we fade, then what happens to those few of our worshipers that remain? To the Amazons, and to the Outlying Realms? Worse yet, would that not release the Titans if there were no more Dodekatheon?"

Apollo raised his head and hand. " I am sorry, I do apologize. But when I think of what we have lost... and what changes we have endured and witnessed... well, it is merely an occasional idle thought. The slayer of Python would not so easily give up, I assure you.

"But still... Zeus, Rhea, Demeter, Hera, Hades, Aphrodite, Herakles... the list goes on. All faded into wisps of memory, sustained only by literary presence in the minds of mortals. Neptune has left us, to dwell beneath the waves forevermore. And Hermes... what he has become... still, at least he remains with us, and stands by us." He glanced up, for his chambers had no roof, at the shining sun overhead. "I do not know how many more centuries I can stand this. But know that, rather than give up, I would dwell inside the sun forever, that I may at least keep watch on our charges."

"But then you would no longer be our king." The voice was sardonic, and definitely male. Without waiting for permission, Hermes Trismegistus strode into Apollo's chambers. "I assure you, I no more wish to see anyone else saddled with that responsibility than I wish to sell you another lyre."

"You're late," grumbled Apollo. "A millenia ago it would have only taken you ten minutes to round up Hephaestos, Hebe, Hekate, and Hestia."

"Ah, yes. I stopped to admire a new art form the mortals are developing. Or are about to finish developing. It involves using those calculating devices to create sculptures out of nothingness. They call it 'three Dee' art." He grinned. "Besides, I finally realized after all this time that you always had me gather those four, not because they dwell farther from Olympus than the rest, but because all of our names begin with the letter 'H'."

This actually stopped Apollo in his tracks. "Fourteen hundred years? It took you, the trickster among us, the one who absorbed the power and knowledge of Thoth of the Egyptians, fourteen hundred years to realize that?"

"Well, actually, no," confessed Hermes. "I figured it out the first time you sent me out like that, I just thought it would make a good excuse if I ever felt like being late."

"While this is all very entertaining, brothers, if you will excuse me I have the last two to gather," said Artemis. She pushed her way past the smirking messenger of the gods, and left Olympus.

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As Clark Kent grew, and came into the fullness of his power, another black-haired child grew as well. Diana of the Amazons, as befitted the daughter of the Queen, learned from the best trainers that could be found. Philippa of the Guard taught her the arts of war, while aged Ismene taught her the ways of wisdom and knowledge. However, one trainer her mother Hippolyta did not expect was one of the more recent Amazons, Ptolema.

Born as Johanna Hard, she was a widow from Norway, accused of piracy in the early nineteenth century. She managed to convince the judge that she was innocent, and once acquitted, promptly left for the sea. There, she continued her life of piracy, eventually sailing down to the Barbary Coast, before being slain by her own first mate. While she lived up to the definition of those who would become Amazons, she was among a group that was never trusted by the original handful, or those who better fit the spirit of the Amazons. However, unlike Mary Read or Anne Bonny, she did not take to piracy for any reason other than adventure.

From Ptolema, once Johanna Hard, Diana learned how to plan for the unexpected, and how to, as the outside world termed it, think outside the box. She also learned the idea of seizing the opportune moment, and that fate was only what one made of it. While that was practically heresy, in that the Amazons still revered Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, she managed to work it in to her personal understanding of the way the universe worked.

Upon the beginning of her eighteenth year, the priestess of Athena, Eupheme, had a vision before the entire court. They were informed that it was time that Themyscria revealed itself to the outside world, and present before what was called the United Nations an ambassador, and a petition to be acknowledged as a sovereign nation. It was revealed to them that, while many were still savage, most of the people of what was called 'The Free World' were remarkably enlightened. Though still not completely equal, great strides had been made within the last century for women, and the knowledge of the Amazons might tip the balance towards equality that much faster.

Thus, a tournament was declared, but not one that would normally be held in honor of Olympus and their gods. Instead, this tournament would test the competitors both physically, and mentally. It was a test of prowess, both physical, and mental. And the winner of this tournament would become the Amazons' representative to what they still called "Man's World".

Needless to say, the fact that her mother forbid her to enter vexed Diana greatly.

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Hippolyta's voice carried out to the crowd. "Only two challengers remain in this, our final test. To my left, in crimson, stands Callisto of Thebes, second only to Phillipus in the Guard. And to my right, in cerulean, stands a maiden with no name, who chose to enter masked. Agnostonoma, as she has been declared for this contest, whose right to enter was requested by Athena, herself."

The crowd was dead silent, for they knew not what challenge would come. It was commonly known that Agnostonoma was actually Diana, the Princess, and that her mother most certainly did not approve. Thus, since this challenge would be intended to give Callisto a heavy advantage without being too dangerous, only a few ideas were whispered back and forth.

"On this day, the ambassador from our fair island to Man's World shall be chosen. She shall not leave immediately, but shall instead be given three years of intensive training, and the gods themselves shall present themselves to grant her gifts for her duties. I must therefore ask complete silence, for this final competition is one of wit and wisdom. It is a riddle game."

A broad grin grew across Callisto's face. One of her closest friends back Pontus, before Herakles had raided them, was Phix the Sphinx. She found she could not blame Oedipus for her death, as she had hurled herself from a high rock upon finding that a man had actually solved her riddle. but prior to that fateful day, Phix and Callisto had spent many days trading riddles, and devising ever more clever ones.

Diana, on the other hand, frowned slightly. She knew the classic riddles, but never gave them much thought. She knew her mother was certain of her identity, but refused to give the queen the satisfaction. So she forced herself to smile broadly, and bowed her head.

"The first riddle shall be to Callisto," declared the queen. "I soar without wings, I see without eyes. I've traveled the universe to and fro. I've conquered the world, yet I've never been anywhere but home."

Callisto frowned, recognizing the style of riddle. Obviously it would be a concept, for nothing physical has ever flown without wings, nor seen without eyes. All those things done, yet having never left home... "The imagination, your majesty."

A smattering of applause passed through the crowd. "Correct. Now for Agnostonoma. Be you ever so quick, with vision keen, by your eyes, we are never seen. Unless perchance it should come to pass, you see our reflection in a looking glass. What are we?"

Diana blinked. She couldn't be so lucky, could she? One of the things that she and Ptolema would joke about was something she had said years ago, when the older woman had asked her what she saw in the mirror. "My eyes, your majesty," she answered without hesitation.

The rapidity of the answer appeared to take Hippolyta back, even as appreciative murmurs joined the applause from the crowd. When they had died down, the game continued, as the riddles for both contestants passed back and forth for much of the day. A combination of pure luck, as with the first riddle, and the creative thinking Ptolema taught her, helped her keep pace with Callisto, despite the older Amazon's significant advantage. Finally, it came down to the last riddle - one both had to answer, by writing their answer on a sheet of parchment.

"What is in my left hand?" called out Hippolyta, raising her left hand, closed into a fist.

The crowd was stunned into silence, taken aback by such an odd riddle - if it could even be called a riddle. Both contestants blinked, then bent over their podiums to think and write their answer.

After nearly half an hour, Callisto felt she had come up with a satisfactory answer. It was obviously a metaphor, after all, and probably relied on her position as Queen of the Amazons. Metaphorically speaking, the left hand of a ruler was the one that accomplished all of the jobs and necessities that had to be done, but could never be publicly acknowledged - most specifically, necessary assassinations. In fact, a Royal Assassin was often called a ruler's 'left hand'. Therefore, to her, the most logical answer would be "The lives of us all." Grinning, she turned to look at her opponent - who was already sitting down on a bench, and more than half way through a modest lunch.

Diana had finished scarcely two minutes after the riddle had been announced. On the one hand, this could be some heavy metaphor, rife with multiple layers of meaning or whatnot. Then again... what the heck. She had simply scrawled on her parchment, "Nothing."

The crowd grew silent as the Queen examined both sheets. Callisto and Diana stood tense as she placed them both down, and stood. "The winner of the Riddle Game, and thus the ambassador to Man's World is...

"...The competitor known as Agnostonoma. My daughter, Diana."

The princess lost herself in the cheers.

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Prologue

CHAPTER TWO

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"I have to say," said Perry White, editor of the Daily Planet, "that this is possibly one of the best pieces I've seen on this kind of a subject. How'd you come up with the angle?"

Clark Kent reached one hand up and adjusted his glasses. "Well, sir, I happened to overhear two people outside stopping the wrecker because someone was still inside. I snuck in, and saw her there on stage."

"Remarkable, simply..."

"Chief! Chief! Turn on the tube, you're not gonna believe this!" shouted Jimmy Olsen as he charged into Perry's office.

"Not now, Olsen, can't you see I'm talking to our newest reporter?" growled Perry.

"But, sir, there's a new country petitioning the United Nations in New York City for membership! And, get this - she claims she represents the Amazons!" protested the young man.

"And why haven't they thrown her out on her tuckus, then, Jimmy?"

"Because, sir - she's hovering ten feet in the air!"

"WHAT?"

Neither noticed that Clark Kent was no longer in the office. Or, for that matter, no longer in the building. When Jimmy had first commented about turning on the television, he had glanced out into the newsroom at one of the televisions there, and seen the woman floating, just as Jimmy would mention moments later. "Is she... is she like me?" was the first and only thing that went through his mind as he left the area at normal human speeds, and took off at an incredible pace once he was out of sight.

Minutes later, he stood outside the farmhouse he had grown up in. Not bothering to knock, he simply rushed in. "Dad! Mom!" he shouted. "Turn on the news, now!" Almost zooming past them, he flopped down on the sofa and pushed a button on the clunky remote.

"Clark! No television until you get back up and close that door, young man!" scolded his mother. "And what's this all about?"

A brief blue blur left and returned to the sofa. "Look - she's flying! I can fly! Is she like me?"

This stunned his parents into flopping down onto the sofa next to him, and together they watched as the United Nations, taking her unusual abilities (which seemed to include massive strength as well as her ability to fly) as incontrovertible proof of the existence of Themyscria. The fact that this heretofore unknown island suddenly appeared on every satellite in the region - as if by magic - helped her case. Finally, Jonathon Kent spoke.

"Son... well, it looks like she can do what you can... but something tells me you're not an Amazon. You're missing two things and got somethin' extra for that."

WHAP! "Jonathon Kent!" yelled Martha as she swatted him quite firmly on his shoulder. "And Clark... I don't know. She's dressed kinda Greek, like Ancient Greek. There were a couple outfits in your capsule with you, sized for up to a baby about two years old, and none of them looked like that. More like a union suit, except with no button-up back."

"Is it still in the barn?" asked the young man.

"It sure is. Want me to come with?" asked his father.

"N-no. I'd... I'd rather look myself. I just want to go over it one more time, I've gotten a bit better with my x-ray vision in the past couple of years." With that, he slowly stood, and walked to the kitchen door.

Questions of all sorts ran through his head. First of all, this Diana claimed her powers came from the old Greek gods. Did his? If so, why didn't he know about them, why didn't they contact him? If not, where DID his powers come from?

However, something else ran through his mind, thoughts shared by millions and millions of men across the nation - and that was that she was positively the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. She looked young, possibly a year or two younger than him, but she radiated a confidence and strength unmatched in women a decade or more older. Her figure was, to say the least, remarkable, and he noted with a wry grin that the legend of the Amazons removing one breast to better use a bow appeared to be just a myth.

Stepping into the barn, he walked over to the old cold room. Dropping down through a trap door, he moved various boxes and other forms of storage out of the way, until his prize was visible - the space capsule he had landed on Earth in. He was still amazed at how tiny it was, yet it somehow had carried him from wherever he had come from to this world, to the most amazing pair of humans on it - his parents. Hefting it with one hand, he carried it out through the larger trap door in the back of the cold room.

Now that it was in the sun, he studied it with every sense he had. It certainly wasn't any material from Earth, with its unusual sheen and sheer durability; he doubted he could do more than dent it, even with his superhuman power. His x-ray vision was almost completely unable to penetrate it, giving him little more than a faintly foggy, vague outline... but nothing else. Frustrated, he carried it back to the cold room, put all the boxes back around it, and headed back to the house.

To his shock, things were incredibly busy in the house. Jonathon was standing on a footstool, getting out the box of fabric bits left over from Halloweens past, while his mother was setting up her sewing machine on the kitchen table. "Oh, good, Clark, you're back. Now, please come here, I need to get some measurements from you."

"What's going on, Mom?" he asked.

"Well, your father and I were talking about it, and since that Diana person has already revealed that there are people out there who can do amazing things, we tried to come up with a way for you to be able to use your abilities without having to give up your life," she said, grinning. "Okay, both arms up, please."

He obediently raised his arms, and his mother wrapped her measuring tape around various parts of his chest, waist, and arms. "What do you mean? Like a costume?"

"Exactly," said Jonathon, setting the rather large box down on the table. "Now, we were thinking, and you know how you started to wear those glasses to remember not to use your special visions unless you had to?"

"Yes?" asked Clark, as his mother measured around his mid-thigh, knee, calf, and ankle.

"Well, in your costume... don't wear them. You wanna be as hopped up as you can get, and all that."

"Umm, right. About this costume thing... will I get any say in it?"

Martha laughed. "Of course! You'll be the one who gets to pick out the fabric!"

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"And I now call pray attend to this meeting of the Dodekatheon," intoned Apollo, in as grave a voice as he could. "The first item is to welcome our newest member - Themis, whose portfolio is Justice."

The afore named goddess rose from her couch, and bowed. Her eyes were bound by cloth, and her stern face took in the other eleven divinities as she faced them all in turn. Apparently having judged them, she smiled faintly, and reclined once more.

"The other item is the reason this gathering has been called. Sister, if you would?" asked the King of the gods.

Artemis nodded, and waved her hand. The pool centered between the Dodekatheon's couches shimmered, then an image grew. The image was of the very sight that had thrown Clark Kent into an uproar seconds before. "The ambassador of our last true worshipers, Diana, has made contact with the council of peoples called the United Nations. As we speak, I and Athena have lifted the cloaking mists from the island, and their devices have detected Themyscria's presence. And if I am any judge of mortals, they will allow the Amazons a seat in this council."

Hebe leaned in close. "How remarkable... women sit upon this council as well! You were right, Athena, they do grow more enlightened by the decade."

"Yes, yes, fascinating and all that rot," sighed Hermes. "However, I have discovered something of at least equal importance, if not greater."

"Bah," scoffed Hephaestus. "What could you possibly have found that could top the possibility of new worshipers, to sustain us and for us to protect?"

"Oh... just a mortal of at least equal power to what we have given Diana, if not greater. And he comes by it naturally, with no divine manifestations."

This, of course, set the Dodekatheon into an uproar. Ignoring the exclamations, he waved his hand, and Clark could be seen flying through the air and landing at his parents' farm. "As you can see, he bears a power similar to that with which I gifted her. His might is as great as Hephaestus's gift, if not greater, and he is as invulnerable as Achilles. He possesses other powers as well, all of which are powered by..." and here he turned to Apollo, "...solar energy."

This stunned the gathering into silence. "He taps my power?" demanded Apollo.

"Not exactly," explained Hermes. "From what I can determine, he simply absorbs the sunlight which constantly falls upon him. This allows his body to somehow tap what human scientists are beginning to call 'zero point energy', that we know of as the Immaterium. This virtually limitless energy then powers a field around him, a sort of pan-cellular psychokinetic field, that augments his body to the astounding degree that we augmented Diana. He does not draw upon any of us, or any other pantheon."

Apollo and Themis both grew slightly rigid. Apollo was the patron of the Oracle at Delphi, but Themis had built it. Both suddenly relaxed, and turned to face each other, Apollo with a wide smile. "Well, then, it's time for us to send Diana a vision, isn't it?"

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Lex Luthor glared at the television in his office as he watched the historic vote, accepting those... those women into the United Nations. Nothing human could have the kind of power that woman claimed to have, and she laid her power at the feet of so-called gods. Pheh, the woman was possibly deranged... or more likely fooled by some form of alien life form. There was a reason those old gods were called myths, after all.

So... her powers. Genetic manipulation? High tech devices? Perhaps some form of applied psychokinetics, brought out by these aliens. Hmmm... if he could just figure out how they granted her these miraculous abilities, then he could use that to create a veritable army of superhuman soldiers.

Or even make himself nearly all-powerful.

"Nigel! Get in here!"

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End file.
